Riftan’s POV (Under the Oak Tree Side Story)

“Finally, you’re showing up!”

As he entered the smithy, a blacksmith hammering loudly commented with a booming voice. He scrutinized him from head to toe, making Riftan feel uncomfortable.

“You’re not ill, you look fine.”

“…It was just this morning that I finally woke up.”

The blacksmith laughed out loud.

“Are you saying I should get another fool to use and discard you instead?”

Riftan swallowed the urge to retaliate which is building up in his throat. He did recover from his illness, but it was just this morning that he was able to move his body out of bed. Despite that, he didn’t want to get on the blacksmith’s bad side and get hit on the head with the man’s greasy hands. The blacksmith dreadfully stared at him and then pointed to the sacks piled up in the corner.

“Just last night, the royal knights came in, making work pile up to a mountain. I want to finish it right away, but my hands are full, so I have no choice but to accept you again this time!”

You’re making a big fuss out of everything. Riftan began to work silently, sarcasm boiling inside him. As the blacksmith had said, there is indeed a lot of work to do; from repairing armors, swords, maces, battle axes, spearheads, shields, and making hundreds of arrowheads.

I wonder where’s all of this going to. They were ordered to make hundreds of horseshoes for the royal knights’ battalion of horses, the hammering sound never ceased for a moment. All the blacksmiths were preoccupied with all the work that even he was called to do a job.

“It’s been a few months since you came in so you must know how to make horseshoes, right? I’ll give you a sample, so make use of that.”

He was never taught anything properly and was stunned that a job was suddenly thrown at him but Riftan tapped the iron without saying a word. All this time, while he worked errands in the smithy, he looked over the blacksmith’s shoulders to see how the work was done and tried to imitate based on how he remembers it.

He placed the iron against the blazing charcoal and pounded it with a hammer, forming the shape of a horseshoe. There was a huge difference with just seeing how it’s made and actually making it himself. But he was skillful, and the iron seldom bent against his will that he was able to make four pairs with the time he had.

The blacksmith inspected his work, checking the size, thickness, and its durability. Satisfied with the output, he then threw it to the basket with the other finished products; Riftan’s work passed. He then moved on to continuing other tasks.

He was barely able to get out of bed yet here he is, sweating profusely, hammering until his shoulders ached terribly, he felt like he was on the edge of death; but he did not dare say a word about it nor show that he was having a hard time. If he took a single break, the blacksmiths would give him hell for it.

He hammered for a long time, and when his basket was filled to the brim with horseshoes, he lifted it up on his shoulders and headed for the stables. As he swiftly moved through the forest, the outbuilding appeared before his eyes, making him feel nostalgic. He couldn’t control his impulse and his feet went to that direction instead.

He felt like an idiot carrying a heavy basket of irons, but he couldn’t shake off the desire to see the girl is well with his own eyes.

As he approached, his pace slowed down and his eyes carefully scanned the garden. The little girl was sitting in front of the flowerbeds, scratching the ground with a stick of branch.

He felt relief wash over him for a moment as he saw that she’s okay, but his heart immediately felt heavy as he noticed her pale gray eyes, downcast as she stared at the ground absently.

Maybe she’s still waiting for me to bring her dog…

Riftan, secretly watched as the girl lifted her round eyes, glancing around repeatedly just for her gaze to return to the ground. He quickly passed her figure, as if running away.

Now, stop caring. You’re just going to get yourself in rough trouble again.

He ran towards the stables, erasing the lonely figure out of his head. However, even after seeing the foals who have been kept tidy all this time, his wretched feelings did not appease.

Riftan mechanically assisted in replacing the horseshoes then immediately went back to the smithy and hammered iron repeatedly. It wasn’t until sunset that the blacksmiths, who were busy all-day long, started packing up the tools.

“Go home after you clean up,” said one of the blacksmiths bluntly.

Riftan swept away all the dust and ash then put out the fire smoldering in the furnaces.

After cleaning up, he was about to go home when something caught his feet. He looked down; a squashed horseshoe was scattered on the floor. It seemed that the defective iron was not polished properly and did not pass the inspection.

Riftan bent down, picking up the bent iron. He was about to throw it away when his feet led him to the anvil instead. A thought entered his mind, he hesitated as he fiddled with the horseshoe.

He had just finished cleaning; his body was on collapsing, and he felt like dying from tiredness as he was forced to do rigid labor when he just barely got out of bed. It would be a hundred times better for him to go back home and get the sleep that he needed.

Yet, he walked to the furnace and lit the charcoals. He operated the bellows with his remaining strength to escalate the heat. After raising it to the right temperature, he casted the iron against the fire and tapped it with a hammer. His shoulders and forearms felt incredibly sore.

Riftan’s was displeased, nonetheless, he flattened the bent iron and used a tool to shape it into a crown. It looked shabby despite his efforts and was bare.

Riftan glared at the iron crown that has wrinkled rings in several places. He sighed, shoving it down his clothes. What kind of crown is this? I did something useless. He laughed bitterly at himself and went straight out of the castle grounds.

Because he took off later than usual, the night’s darkness surrounded his path. As he went down the hill, careful not to trip over a rock, his nose tickled at the scent of food coming from their hut.

Riftan rubbed his grumbling stomach, opened the door, and entered. His mother’s eyes flashed with anger as she sat on the lit side of the house.

Startled by her overreaction, he remained at the door. His mother looked at him begrudgingly and rapidly stood up.

“You’re…late today. I’ll heat up your meal, so rest first.”

She tucked her messy hair behind her ear and walked in front of the fireplace. He looked at her with confusion. His mother trembled strangely. Was she worried that I came home late? Riftan sat in front of the table with a dark expression.

“…Where’s father?”

“He…hasn’t come home yet.”

She stirred the pot and muttered in a quiet voice. Riftan frowned at her. His stepfather is most probably drinking his life away at a bar somewhere in the village. That’s the only pleasure that this life could offer that man. Riftan, who couldn’t help but have a disappointed face, sighed.

He didn’t understand his stepfather’s intentions. He has lived with them for ten years; he would be better off without a wife that acts like someone else’s and a dark-skinned boy who he didn’t share a single drop of blood with.

He ate a full bowl of porridge and roughly wiped his face with a wet towel and lied down on a bed made of straw. His mother looked at him and quietly asked, “…How are you feeling?”

“I feel better now.”

The sudden interest his mother gave him felt unfamiliar, so he bluntly replied and turned his body to lay down facing the wall instead.

The woman hesitated as she pulled the blanket over Riftan’s shoulder. Her cautious hands made his nose wrinkle. Riftan closed his eyes, thinking that from time to time, to be in pain doesn’t seem so bad.

***

The next day was busy without fail. He was occupied running around the forge since dawn. The blacksmiths were anxious to finish all the repairs before the royal knights prepare to leave the castle.

Trying not to get on their nerves, Riftan strived to do his tasks when he saw a glimpse of a red, curly hair.

Riftan, who was carrying a load of firewood at that time, blinked stupidly. The eldest daughter of the duke was hiding behind the door, only her head was poking out as she peeked inside the smithy.

What on earth are you doing here?

He squinted his eyes as he looked outside. There wasn’t anyone accompanying her. Riftan’s face stiffened. The smithy is quite a long way from the outbuilding.

Did she come this far by herself? He threw the firewood next to the furnace and then made his way to the door. She was in danger just a few days ago and yet here she is again, unguarded.

Why did they allow you to wonder alone? Are the guards even in their right mind, why didn’t they watch over you?

He strode with firm will and attention when a blacksmith brutally snatched him by the arm.

“Pretend you didn’t see anything. Don’t you know that servants are not allowed to initiate talk with a noble?”

“But it’s dangerous for a child to be around this place!”

“That’s not our problem, that’s the problem of the maids who attend to her.”

The blacksmith bluntly replied and pushed him back aggressively.

“We should stick to doing our job and avoid creating annoying problems.”

Riftan glared at him resentfully but all the other blacksmiths seem to agree with what the man said and sent the boy irritated glances. Everyone knew of her presence but chose to ignore it. As Riftan stood still, the blacksmith threatened him with his fists.

“Didn’t you hear me?! Do your job and pretend she’s not here!”

Riftan turned around reluctantly. But while he hammered, he couldn’t prevent himself from stealing looks at the door. The girl was glancing around the inside of the smithy with big, curious eyes.

What are you looking for?

There were too many dangerous objects in the smithy for a child. Weapons were piled up all over the place, hot sparks flew from everywhere, and the air was murky from all the smoke. He watched anxiously, worried that she would enter the place, when he met her eyes by coincidence.

She appeared to be startled and hid behind the door. Riftan laughed in vain as he noticed the twisted fringes and wavy scarlet hair that protruded from the doorstep.

Do you think I don’t know that you’re hiding there? As Riftan shook his head, the little girl poked her head out again and looked at him. When their eyes met for the second time, she hid behind the door again, then lifts her head to glance at him for the third time…

Riftan’s eyebrows creased. Did you perhaps come to find me? She must have come to ask why he didn’t bring her dog. At that thought, Riftan felt like he was stabbed and turned his head away.

He didn’t have the guts to tell her that he had buried her dog. Riftan began hammering again, pretending to be busy.

It went on for so long that when he turned his head to look at the door, the girl was nowhere to be seen. She probably got bored and went back to the outbuilding. Riftan bit his lips. There’s no way that he could let her go around alone.

Riftan pretended to gather scarce materials from the warehouse and went out the smithy with empty sacks. He then grabbed the barrow next to the smithy when something unfamiliar caught his eyes.

His eyes blinked blankly. By the window seal was a crown made from colorful summer flowers woven together. He picked it up, stared at it, and then lifted his head and searched around with his eyes. The girl was hiding behind a tree, watching him

Did you put it here on purpose?

He hesitated and placed it back by the window then lifted the cart by the handles. The red-haired girl jumped up and stomped her feet around, looking restless. Riftan swallowed a laugh and picked up the flower crown again.